


l'avoir est avoir les étoiles

by celestialnovak



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Apologies, Everyone Is Gay, M/M, big mess, the gay ass flower shop au no one wanted again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-04
Updated: 2016-05-04
Packaged: 2018-06-06 10:56:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6751210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celestialnovak/pseuds/celestialnovak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Its his second week working at the godforsaken flower shop when he meets him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	l'avoir est avoir les étoiles

**Author's Note:**

> shoutout to anastasia for helping me with the title. she is a beautifol french angel   
> (sorry about the punctuation as always.)
> 
> +this is a reupload! im sorry to plague you all with it again but i just wanted to keep it here.  
> +i might add a little epilogue soon/extra thing idk

It's his second week working at the godforsaken flower shop when he meets him.  
 A perfect head of black curls and dark freckled skin, wire rimmed glasses slipping down his nose as he bends to look at a small bouquet of forget-me-nots. Murphy tries not to yelp when he pricks his finger on the thorn of a rose while watching the mysteriously beautiful person.  
   
He hurriedly rearranges his features into a scowl when the man stands up, pretending that he hadn't been shamelessly checking him out.  
"Hey," He says casually, turning around while haphazardly trying to hold three different bouquets of blue flowers.  
 Murphy's eyes widen and he rushes towards him, all thoughts of his newly bloomed crush forgotten in the name of health and safety.

"You’re not really supposed to take those away from the display." His hands curl around the shiny plastic the flowers are wrapped in, inches away from the other man's.  
"So you're who Emori hired to replace me," He says with a lopsided smile.  
Murphy steps away quickly and runs a hand through his hair nervously. "Oh. Uh- I’m sorry. I didn't mean to, you know, intrude on your, you know- job." what is he saying? He can feel his face heating up.  
The stranger chuckles before clapping a hand to Murphy's shoulder and grinning widely. "You’re not intruding. I'm Bellamy, and we're probably going to be seeing a lot of each other from now on." He leans in and winks, the smell of aftershave and apple shampoo radiating from him.  "If you don't mind."  
Murphy's never believed in love at first sight before but he's starting to doubt himself.  
   
Bellamy's face twists into a frown for a moment, and Murphy feels his defences rising. "What?" He says flatly, phrasing it as a statement more than a question.  
Bellamy looks down before scooping one of Murphy's bony hands in his own.  
"Aw man- you cut yourself." He holds Murphy's hand up close to his face to inspect it despite the shorter man's struggle to pull them back.  
   
"Please give me my hand back." He mumbles quietly, back pressed against the wooden counter in an attempt to sidle away.  
Bellamy obliges, about to apologise profusely before Emori appears from behind the display of sunflowers.  
"Murphy? You gotta sort out the prom corsage orders. Oh-" Her eyes dart between the two of them, looking vaguely perplexed. Murphy nods and begrudgingly makes his way around the counter.  
"So you've met Murphy," She states in Bellamy’s direction; slight accent prominent, eyebrows raised.  
"He’s quite the florist." Bellamy says, and smirks. Murphy looks away quickly, hands darting to the strings of his faded apron. Emori steers Bellamy away from the counter, looking absolutely tiny beside his six foot frame, and she sticks her tongue out at Murphy before they turn the corner.  
   
***  
   
On their lunch break Emori is insistent that they go to the new coffee place so she can see the cute barista she's been talking about for a week.  
"I don't care what you say. TonDC is a stupid name for a coffee shop," He squints in the noon sunshine, hands shoved in his pockets as they approach the building.  
"It’s artsy," Emori says as she grabs his arm, stepping inside and dragging him in with her.  
   
As they settle at a table Emori cranes her neck to see who's working at the counter.  
"How's today going? And what'd you think of Bellamy?" She asks absentmindedly, her mind clearly more focused on whether the barista's working or not rather than Murphy's actual answer.  
"He’s beautiful. And probably thinks I hate him because I was so awkward and defensive. Oh yeah- and I spent the rest of the morning in the gross supply closet sorting out stupid prom orders," He says, voice heavy with sarcasm. "There’s probably dust up my a-"

"Shut up, it wasn't that bad," she says, rolling her eyes and patting his hand across the small table. "I’m sure you and Bellamy are gonna get along just fine. You seem similar you know? You're both stubborn and annoying," She grins playfully at him. "And honestly he seemed pretty into you, the way he was holding your hand and everything?"  
Murphy sighs. "I was bleeding."

Emori makes a confused face before the barista approaches- a girl with long dark hair and sharp interesting features who introduces herself as Echo, casting a cold look in Murphy’s direction and smiling softly at Emori. And then they’re flirting, all bright smiles and soft touches.  
   
They leave the store after an hour- Murphy with a headache and Emori with the barista’s phone number.  
   
***  
   
Murphy and Bellamy don't get along just fine. He discovers this a few days later, after a stream of constant bickering.  
There was the time Bellamy shelved the peonies exactly the way Murphy didn't like them- resulting in a heated argument and a broken ceramic pot that Murphy had to pay for.  
   
One extremely hot afternoon when they're both grumpy and lethargic, there's a squabble over the last can of diet coke. It started fairly innocently, the two of them passing the can between them while taking small drinks. The day ended in Bellamy punching Murphy in the head for the last sip and knocking the can out of his hand. A crate of tulips ended up getting the last of the beverage- their tangerine petals drenched and the soil overflowing with carbon dioxide bubbles. Emori chewed Murphy out for it the next day, and despite his vehement protests that it was because of Bellamy punching him right in the head- he was the only one who ended up working an extra weekend shift.  
   
Murphy decided to get his revenge by drawing an "obscene image" (as Emori called it later) on Bellamy's forehead in purple sharpie when he fell asleep at the desk- unaware that the branch owner was coming in after lunch.  
Needless to say, Emori lost her shit and pushed the two of them into the cramped bathroom, demanding for Murphy to "Scrub that boy's freckly face until you get the fucking dick off his forehead!" and Bellamy laughs in Murphy's face when he gets flustered and drops the hand soap down the sink.  
   
By lunchtime the three of them stand in front of the owner- a man called Thelonious, with warm eyes and a low laugh. His assistant Alie is there too, staring at them all intently with calculating eyes.  
Emori is extremely professional, polite and funny from the start of their visit to the end.  
Bellamy's forehead shines pink from excessive scrubbing with three paper towels and half a bottle of dish soap but he smiles widely anyway, greeting Thelonious with a warm handshake and nodding to Alie. Her eyes remain focused on his forehead.  
Murphy attempts a smile but it comes out as more of a grimace, purple stained hands fidgeting by his sides.  
"Thelonious. The greasy one has purple fingers." Alie murmurs, notebook in hand and a pen poised- seemingly ready to take notes about Murphy's fingers.  
Bellamy stifles a laugh before Emori steps on his foot and leads their guests to the counter.  
   
The visit goes well, the only suggestion from Thelonious to hire a delivery person so customers didn't have to come into the store every time. Alie tells Murphy to wash his hands more thoroughly before they depart, and he shuffles uncomfortably under her intense stare.   
As soon as they leave, Emori smacks Murphy on the back of the head. She delegates the responsibility of hiring a new employee to him and Bellamy laughs silently in the corner, forehead still gleaming.  
   
Despite their rocky start, Murphy finds himself becoming strangely fond of Bellamy and they start to spend more time together after work- sorting flowers into bouquets and making various arrangements for window displays.  
"Bellamy?" Murphy asks after staring at the way the light from the moon hits his hair and the side of his face for a shameful amount of time.  
"Yeah?"  
"Why did you take a two week break?" Murphy's hands still at the camellias on the table. "I mean- if it's personal you don't have to say."  
"Nah, it's not anything like that. My sister got married overseas, and I went to the wedding and stayed with her and her husband's family for a while," Bellamy keeps his eyes on the orchids in his hands, fingers trailing over the speckled petals. "I guess I got kind of carried away and stayed for too long. Octavia, that's my sister, and I didn't have much family growing up so it was nice to have that I guess."  
Murphy swallows. "Me neither," he almost says, but he bites his tongue. He isn't really ready to talk about that with Bellamy.  
"Oh. Cool," He says instead with a small smile.  
"I live alone now. I mean, it’s okay I guess," Bellamy continues unprompted, now frowning at the flower in his hands. "Kinda lonely. And rent's a bitch to pay."  
"Right?" Murphy says, forgetting that this is probably a personal moment where he should just listen. "Mine is way too much for like- a one bedroom apartment where the shower doesn't even work properly. And I get you on the lonely thing. What if I think of a really good pun in the middle of the night? There's no one to tell it to. It's tragic really."  
Bellamy's frown dissipates, and he smiles ludicrously. "Maybe we should just move in together then."  
There's a beat of silence before Murphy laughs obnoxiously. "I wouldn't put you through hearing those terrible puns."  
And Bellamy joins him, somehow finding this as funny as Murphy does.  
   
***  
   
On Sunday Emori decides to change the aprons from the usual dusty grey to pink. The three of them spend an afternoon in the empty flower shop- blinds shut to keep out the harsh summer sunshine, ribbons of glittering light falling across the lilies and lilacs in the window display.  
   
"Murphy just come out already!" Bellamy yells, lounging on the desk with his head propped up on Murphy's backpack. "You’re so dramatic- you don't even need to be in the closet right now."  
Emori rides up and down the aisles on their only shelving stool with wheels, loudly announcing that she'll roll right through the supply closet door if he isn't out in two seconds.  
   
"This colour makes my skin look like lumpy porridge." Murphy deadpans as he steps out, and Bellamy subsequently bursts out laughing.  
The sound of squeaky stool wheels echoes around the shop as Emori approaches. "Hah! I knew salmon wasn't your colour- oh my god."  
She grimaces and Bellamy grins as they take in the sight of Murphy standing at the supply closet door in dirty combat boots and an old Metallica t-shirt with a terrifyingly bright pink apron with harsh orange undertones.  
"This is painful. I'm gonna get another shade from the back," As she retreats Bellamy's chuckling grows louder and he hops off the counter smoothly.  
"What are you laughing at asshole? You didn't exactly look dashing in salmon either," Murphy huffs, folding his arms and glaring at Bellamy.  
"At least I tied it properly," He flashes a lopsided smile before reaching his hands around Murphy's waist to untie the messy canvas knot.  
   
They're extremely close, Bellamy's freckled forearms resting on Murphy's hips- and from the perspective of someone standing outside it would almost look like a hug.  
Murphy freezes with wide eyes and stiff shoulders as Bellamy works at the knot with deft fingers, breath light on Murphy's neck.  
When he's done he crosses the two strings and brings them to the front, leaning back to tie a neat bow at Murphy's side.  
   
Murphy risks a glance up at the taller man's face; eyebrows knitted together in concentration, glasses resting on his freckled cheekbones.  
He smiles softly while stepping back completely. "There you go."  
   
"You really like getting into my personal space don't you?" Murphy says, voice embarrassingly shaky. Bellamy laughs and scratches the back of his neck.  
"Someone as cute as you? Sure," He raises his head to meet Murphy's eyes, looking a little sheepish.  
   
Murphy blinks.  
   
Before he can say anything Emori clears her throat, having suddenly appeared behind them in the daisy and daffodil aisle.  
"Uh," She pauses, an array of pink aprons in her hands. "I got flamingo, magenta, blush and peach here if you wanna try 'em."  
   
Bellamy strides to her side, peering at the aprons like they're the most interesting things in the world. "Jesus Em, how many shades of pink did you order?"  
"Only like," She counts them up on her fingers rapidly. "Six. As a person who looks good in every colour I’m really doing you guys a favour by giving you options."  
   
Murphy rigidly steps forward and grabs the nearest piece of clothing from her arms before promptly disappearing back into the supply room.  
Bellamy and Murphy don't talk for the rest of the afternoon, but the three of them eventually decide on peach as the best colour. By the end of the day the aprons are sent off to the printing company to have their names and the shop's logo embroidered on. Emori is very pleased, despite noticing the slight shift in Murphy and Bellamy's behaviour.  
   
***  
   
Two days before the deadline set by Emori, Murphy hires a boy called Miller who he found on craigslist with an ad entitled: "Will transport goods for $$$." He comes complete with his own van and a surprising array of classical music on cd.  
They actually get along really well, partly due to the fact that they both choose to go by last names.  
"Fuck first names!" Murphy says a little too passionately when they first meet, and Miller's eyebrows disappear behind the thick black beanie he has on with a nonplussed smile.  
Emori and Bellamy are a little apprehensive but soon warm up to his snarky humour and gentle manner.  
On his first official day of work he smoothes out the peachy apron, beaming at Murphy while leaning against his grey van. "You know- when I put that ad up I never thought I’d end up working in the floral industry."  
"That’s floriculture to you," Murphy shoots back, wrinkling his nose when Miller gives him the finger.  
"Psh, you don't even know what that means."  
   
***  
   
Miller seems to take a liking to their distributor's delivery guy Bryan. He's tall and lanky with elf like features and a boyish charm that Miller is completely rapt with.  
Every time Bryan arrives with a crate of new flowers Miller is always the first one outside, ready to help him carry them and make small talk.  
Bellamy and Murphy are always there too, shoulder to shoulder at the window, the former with a goofy smile on his face and the latter watching with narrowed eyes and folded arms.

"How long until they’re dating?" Murphy asks dryly, surreptitiously liking the feeling of Bellamy's arm pressed against his.  
"I give it a week," he mumbles, pushing his glasses up and squinting at a flustered Miller reaching to pick up some fallen pansies while Bryan laughs, holding a crate of hydrangeas against his hip.  
Murphy snorts. "No way! Twenty dollars says a month, tops."  
Bellamy rolls his eyes.  
"Hey- don't roll your eyes at me! I'm being realistic. That right there,” Murphy motions outside at the two who are now shoving at each other playfully. “-is filled with awkward silences and bad dates. You need to give it time to build."  
Bellamy raises his eyebrows. "So you're an expert on relationships now?"  
"I happen to know a thing or two asshat," he huffs, mouth set in a frown.  
The curly haired man scoffs. "I’m raising the bet to thirty because you called me an asshat."  
Murphy glares at him. "Douchecanoe."  
"Who raised you?" Bellamy utters in mock horror, a hand pressed to his chest theatrically.  
Murphy pushes against his shoulder and ruffles the curly mop of hair playfully. Bellamy stumbles a little while laughing wholeheartedly.  
   
***  
   
On Wednesday Miller accidentally mixes up a wedding order and the prom corsages. Wednesday being the one day Emori takes off to spend with her girlfriend- leaving them with a firm belief that they won’t fuck up. She was wrong.

Bellamy and Murphy are left scrambling while Miller rushes to the high school over the speed limit while yelling into his phone, Debussy blasting in the background. “Listen guys, I knew it was weird that I was delivering these huge ass flower things; Bryan said they were hydrangeas I think? Uh, I don’t know. He looked really cute that day- Anyway so I just did it anyway because that’s my job and I didn’t want to let Emori down, or you guys, and the lady at the desk just took ‘em, you kno-”  
“Miller!” Murphy shouts, cutting him off and startling Bellamy who almost loses his grip on the receiver of the ancient plastic wall phone at the counter. “Sorry Bell,” He mumbles, taking it from the taller man, who’s now stepped back with his arms in mock surrender. “Miller, can you get them back in time for the wedding or not?”  
“Wh-? Yeah, ‘course!” Miller’s voice resonates over the phone, an octave higher than usual- feigning cool.  
“Good.” He says, slamming down the receiver and sighing deeply. “We have to pack those motherfuckers up right now.” He rushes to the back room, Bellamy trailing along behind him.  
“And by ’those motherfuckers’ you mean the corsages?”  
“What else would I refer to as ‘those motherfuckers’?”  
“Good point.”  
They quickly package the corsages in silence, the only sound the whirring of the air conditioner. They carry them to the counter and wait impatiently for Miller to arrive with the wedding flowers.  
“So. That was quick. Uh, I think we did a good job.” Bellamy says quietly, scuffing a shoe along the floor.  
Murphy remains silent, tapping the edge of the table with his index finger.  
There’s an awkward silence for a while before Bellamy laughs a little. “Hey, did you see Emori and Echo this morni-”  
“I need to tell you something.” Murphy says abruptly.  
Bellamy laughs again- a little nervously this time.  
“If I don’t tell you now I’m probably never going to so. Here I go.” He screws his eyes shut and brushes a hand over Bellamy's, feeling his strong hands twitch under his own.

"I- I like you." He murmurs- voice barely above a whisper.  
   
And then Bellamy looks at him. Dark eyes with specks of gold and amber darting around his face, trying to gauge whether this is serious or not. Wide, open, scared.  
Light from the window beside them streams through the peonies in the window display, past the sunflowers on the counter and just over the top of the roses on the shelf behind Murphy.  
He draws his eyebrows together in an apologetic frown before pulling away, turning his head before his ears become tinted pink with embarrassment. "I’m sorry. That was a little forward. I mean- I don't even know if you're, you kn-"  
Warm hands find his shoulders, turning him around before he's met with rich brown eyes again and a lopsided smile- freckles prominent in the light.  
"Shut up, Murphy." He says it with a smile, and Murphy knows this because it comes through in the kiss. Smooth teeth and a breathy chuckle when he rests his forearms on the taller boy's shoulders, running his fingers through soft black curls at his neck.  
He frowns, trying to mutter something snarky, but Bellamy ghosts his lips against his jawbone and he loses his train of thought.  
"Hey," He says from beneath Murphy's chin. "Do you want to grab dinner tonight?"  
Murphy shifts against the counter with an alarmed grunt, realising that he'd leaned on two sunflowers and completely squashed them.  
"I’m a sunflower murderer Bellamy. I can't possibly go to dinner with you knowing that I’ve taken the lives of these two innocent souls." His solemn words are punctuated with a shrug.

Bellamy laughs and punches him on the shoulder, and at the same time Miller bursts through the door yelling about weddings and high school secretaries.  
They separate quickly and carry corsages to the van and carry the wedding flowers back, shouting hasty goodbyes to Miller as he speeds off, almost knocking over a bin in his wake.

Miller calls Murphy when everything's over.  
"Man, you should've seen the look on the bride's face!"  
"Bet she was really surprised to see a punk like you delivering her wedding bouquet."  
"Fuck you!" Miller laughs, crackly and distant over the phone. "At least I don't dress like you."  
"If that's meant to be an insult it isn't working. My dress sense is impeccable."  
"Maybe you should get your eyes checked."  
"Maybe you should get your eyes che-"  
"I'm hanging up on your middle school comeback ass."  
"Miller come o-"  
"Bye!" the call disconnects and Murphy smiles goofily at Bellamy from across the store.

Bellamy just raises an eyebrow. "He's right about the middle school comebacks."  
Murphy nods. "I have him saved as Ass Licker on my phone." he says absently.  
"Ooh you should put 'Bryan's' in brackets before that, that'd really embarrass him." Bellamy says while watering a large crate of yellow tulips.  
"You're evil," Murphy mumbles, editing Miller's contact name as quickly as humanly possible. "An evil genius."

When they leave the store at closing time Bellamy's hand is entwined in Murphy's. It remains that way through the car ride to Murphy’s house, where Bellamy drops him off and tells him that he’ll see him tomorrow. (A phrase that feels far too ‘high school’ for him to be saying.)

 And everything is good. It isn't perfect, but it's something.


End file.
